2746 Book(s) Related to my best friend s father

In this apocalyptic world of extreme heat, I fight for water in the underground black market, and I risk my life to hoard supplies.
My internet-famous roommate enjoyed my efforts while hiding in the air-conditioned room, panting softly in front of three fill lights: "We need to slow down and reconcile with nature."
Later, she stole my supplies and sold them to drug lords, causing me to be roasted alive on the riverbed.
After being reborn, I turned and left.
"Don't you like a slow-paced life? Stay here and enjoy it."
The end times have only just begun.

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my grandmother in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my only family die.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

In my past life, I gave up my college acceptance to say yes to my boyfriend's proposal at our senior prom.

Just a few years into our marriage, my husband and my best friend teamed up to drag me through hell. He tricked me into signing away my entire inheritance, leaving me with absolutely nothing. She pretended to take me in, only to secretly get me hooked on drugs.

I was forced to sell my body just to survive, while they looked down on me, laughing as they squandered everything my father had left behind.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my eighteen-year-old senior prom.

Under the spotlight, my boyfriend was on one knee, holding up a ring. Looking at his face, all I could remember was the smirk he wore when he threw me out onto the streets.

Blessed with a second chance, I grabbed my dress, turned, and ran. I blocked all his contacts and dug the college acceptance letter out of the trash.

He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He actually tracked me down at college, cornered me, and mocked me in front of a crowd: "Who would ever want you without me?"

I told him I already had a new boyfriend—someone a million times better than him.

I randomly pointed at a man in the crowd. Little did I know, I had pointed at the university's youngest board member—a ruthless Wall Street tycoon serving as a guest professor.

I braced myself for this bigshot to expose my lie.

Instead, he walked right up to my side, shot a freezing glare at my ex, and asked:

"Do you have a problem with my girlfriend?"

Three days after I died, the morgue called my husband Sebastian to collect my ashes.
He was kissing another woman when he hit speaker, his voice cold and dismissive: "She's dead? Cremate her. Don't call me again."
And just like that, my body was wheeled into the cremation chamber.
When he finally showed up to collect my remains, he smashed the urn on the floor and ground every fragment of my ashes into the tile with his shoe.
"Playing dead? What a pathetic stunt," he sneered. "Tell her the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up. She'd better show up at the cemetery on her knees, or even if she really is dead, I'll scatter her ashes in the sewer myself."
But he didn't know—I truly was dead.
My soul was bound to him, forced to drift at his side as he planned a lavish wedding with his adopted sister Claire—his mother's true killer.
By the time he discovered the truth and exposed Claire at the altar, I had already vanished.
He lost his mind, racing to the ocean to search for my ashes.
Never knowing that the remains he'd crushed like garbage under his shoe—the "fake ashes" he'd dismissed as part of my act—
Were all that was left of me.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

I've married sixteen dead men for a living. My seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.
I was born knowing one thing: the dead can speak one last time — but only to a spouse.
So I marry dead men. Rich families pay me to wed their fresh corpses, carry the last words sealed inside me, and read the testament out before the heirs. Then I burn the marriage certificate, and the marriage ends at the grave. Starting price: six hundred thousand dollars.
This morning, the Crane heir drowned in his own pool. Twenty-eight, obscenely rich, not one word left behind. The family offered five million and a private jet. By my count — my seventeenth husband. By a wide margin, the handsomest.
I said "I do" to a corpse for the seventeenth time. Then I called for his last words.
Silence. Sixteen weddings, sixteen voices. Husband number seventeen had nothing to say.
Because my seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

For three years, I deliberately suppressed my grades to rank under my boyfriend William, paving his way to our promised Cambridge exchange. I overheard him and my best friend Maddie confess they framed me for plagiarism in my past life, driving me to jump off the 38th floor, yet they still carried on an affair. They lied and ignored my pain afterward. Heartbroken, I secretly applied to Cambridge alone. The twist? My years of hiding my brilliance were never selfless sacrifice. I collected all their dirty secrets. I’m going to Cambridge not to flee, but to ruin every dream they cling to.

The remote vacation villa was saturated with suffocating male testosterone.
Deep in the night, my life-saving suppressants inexplicably vanished. The moment the drugs wore off, my unspeakable secret—my sex addiction—unleashed its most violent, lethal backlash in history.
What was even more fatal was that, through a twisted twist of fate, the man I was forced to share a room with tonight was my stepbrother, renowned for his absolute abstinence and cold, iron-fisted ruthlessness.
I thought that once my embarrassingly out-of-control, in-heat state was exposed, he would treat me like a monster and kick me away in disgust.
But I never expected—
This aloof man, who usually wouldn't even spare me a glance, now carried an irresistible, scorching aggression, ruthlessly sliding his large, rough hand straight up my thoroughly soaked panties...

My husband thinks a "tragic surgical accident" left me completely blind. Now, he's moved his mistress right into our house to be my nurse. They openly whisper about my life insurance while preparing my afternoon tea. They think a blind wife is the perfect prey. But are they sure I'm in the dark?

Cancer was supposed to be my death sentence. Instead, it became my liberation.

I thought I had it all—wealth, status, a picture-perfect life in Greenwich's elite circles. Then came the diagnosis that would change everything: six months to live. But facing my final chapter, I uncovered a truth more devastating than any terminal illness—the man sleeping beside me was slowly killing my soul.

When you have nothing left to lose, you discover exactly how powerful you can become.

My husband's first love, Celine, lured me to a remote cabin under the guise of an "apology."
 
She then poured gasoline all over the porch and locked the door from the outside.
 
In my past life, the moment the fire began to spread, I desperately called my husband, Julian—a fire captain—for rescue.
 
He smashed the door open and saved me.
 
Ironically, Celine's scheme backfired, and she died of smoke inhalation outside.
 
Yet, Julian pinned her blood debt entirely on me.
 
He kept me at the hospital with his hypocritical comfort, only to tear off his disguise the day I was discharged. He tied me to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse and poured gasoline at my feet.
 
As the flames ignited, my ten-week-old unborn child and I were swallowed by the raging fire.
 
Julian's eyes were bloodshot. Facing my agonizing screams, his gaze held nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred:
 
"If you hadn't gone mad with jealousy and locked the door from the inside, Celine would never have died! Stop playing the victim!"
 
"The pain she suffered before she died... I'm going to make you pay for it ten times, a hundred times over!"
 
In the blazing light, he watched coldly as I was burned alive, turning into a charred corpse.
 
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the fire started to spread.

My brother's first day on the job, and the new intern, Ashley Pratt, accuses him of trying something with her in the break room.

In my last life, I panicked under all those judging stares and my father screaming at me over the phone. I grabbed my brother by the shoulder and forced him to bow and apologize to her, tried to pay her off to make it go away.

She turned around and leaked the wire transfer online instead, twisted it into a story about rich people paying to buy back their good name. The backlash spiraled out of control. My brother couldn't take the flood of hate anymore and jumped from the roof. He hit the ground and there was nothing left of him to recognize.

My father used my failure to handle it as an excuse to push me off the board. I ended up watching the woman responsible climb over my brother's grave and take the CEO seat at Merritt Industries.

Fate is giving me a second shot.

My brother reaches for me, eyes rimmed red. "Camille, I swear I didn't do anything."

I pull him behind me and look down at the woman crying on the floor.

"She's saying you assaulted her? Fine. Let's call the cops."

The day I secured the finale at New York Fashion Week, my adopted sister was in a car crash that left her completely blind.
And so began a ruthless campaign to destroy my life.
Listening to me prepare for the runway, she touched her heavy gauze bandages and wept bitterly. "You're so brilliant, Valora. Not like me... I'm just a useless, blind burden."
To placate her, our brother burned my core design sketches to ashes.
On the day of the show, my finale haute couture gown was maliciously slashed to ribbons. My reputation was left in ruins, and every single sponsor pulled their funding.
Later, she live-streamed her suicide attempt from a rooftop, sobbing that a disabled girl like her didn't deserve to be loved.
My husband dropped to one knee in front of the entire world and slipped the custom diamond ring—my ring—onto her finger.
That very night, I was dead-bolted inside my roaring, fire-engulfed studio.
With toxic smoke searing my lungs, I dialed my husband's number for help, only to be met with his frustrated, impatient voice:
"Serafina is blind! The fire alarms have her terrified! Stop being so damn petty and jealous right now!"
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her accident. The day she faked her blindness.

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

My foster brother Caelan swore he'd only ever marry me. Even though I'm the only human in a pack of wolves, for eighteen years he and his brother Ronan made me feel like I belonged.
Then Mira showed up—and suddenly she was his "fated mate."
I watched him bond with her while I choked on poisoned incense and collapsed. No one caught me. They were too busy wiping her tears.
Within a week, she had my room. My job. Eighteen years of memories—trashed.
They said I could never leave them.
They forgot about the vampire prince who's been waiting at the border for three months.
He never forgot me.

On our fifth anniversary, Caspian gifted me a luxury yacht bearing my name. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I finally conceived his child and prepared to share the news, his mistress sent me photos—him cradling a baby she'd given him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I'd never seen.
Five years of waiting, five years of infertility—all an elaborate lie.
He once whispered in my ear: "Even if every man in the world betrays his wife, I never will. You're my life. Without you, I can't survive."
I quietly packed, left behind my pregnancy report and all the evidence, and drove away. Three hours later, he received the call: my car exploded on the highway. No survivors.
From that day on, the most powerful man in Valen City lost his mind completely.

"The Draganovs are moving on Celeste tonight. I'm taking her to the safe house. We'll do the claiming after this, Orla. I promise."
That's what my husband said the seventh time he chose Celeste over me.
Celeste. The girl he'd loved since before he had a wife to ignore.
The first time, she heard footsteps outside her window at two in the morning. Rafael sent his whole detail to sit on her house and left me at a meeting with two men who wanted our shipping routes and didn't like being told no. I came home with a bullet crease across my ribs. He apologized for a week.
The third time, someone tipped the cops on one of our warehouses and she got scared. He drove her upstate himself. I took a knife at the door because there was no one left standing in front of me.
By the sixth time, he didn't explain. He just texted the doctor to be ready for me and left.
He's a Don. When the guns come out, he walks away clean. I'm the one wearing his name where everyone can see it. The one they aim at first. Six scars say so.
Every time, he held my face after and promised. Founders' Day. In front of every family in the city. Once Celeste was safe. I believed him six times.
So when the seventh time came and he chose her again, my bags were already packed.
There won't be an eighth time he sends me out to die for her. Next time, there won't be a wife left for him to send.

For the tenth time, James Smith left me behind because of a call from his female student.
But it was as if I had become a different person—I no longer doubted that there was something ambiguous between James and his student.
Even on our wedding anniversary, when he abandoned me in the remote mountains for Sophia's sake, I bore no resentment.
Eventually, James began to sense something.
"Emily, you seem different," he said.
I shook my head with a smile.
Because I had simply made a different choice from the one in my past life.

I took a bullet for my husband five years ago. He married me in the ICU before the anesthesia wore off.
Raffaele Santoro—heir to the most powerful mafia family in Italy—told me I was his everything. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a grave beside his parents so we'd lie together for eternity.
While I was pumping my body full of hormones for our fourth round of IVF, he was across town watching his childhood sweetheart give birth to twin boys.
He named one of them Dante—the name I'd chosen for our future son.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant with his child.
I didn't tell him.
I called my best friend and said: I need everyone to think I'm dead.

Six weeks after his girlfriend had twins, my husband got himself fixed. He billed it to my insurance.
Then he spent nine years driving me to fertility clinics. Two surgeries. Four rounds of shots. He held my hand every time and told me next time.
The whole town said it was my fault. His mother asked me every Sunday if there was any news.
I died at forty-four. Three days before the end I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear them over my bed. The girl I bought a purple bicycle for called him Dad.
Then I opened my eyes and I was thirty-four again, on a gurney, waiting for them to open me up one more time.
Last time I lay back down and let them do it. I did it three more times after that.
This time he's paying me back for all nine years, one line at a time.
The nurse asked me to confirm my date of birth. I did. Then I told her I wasn't doing it.

The stepbrother I grew up with was a golden boy, a star varsity quarterback everyone had high hopes for.
But for a street-level delinquent, he abandoned his Ivy League future.
Desperate to pull his life back on track, I tried to expose his toxic girlfriend.
Yet, he hated me to the bone for it.
For her, he ruthlessly dragged our family into the crossfire of a deadly gang dispute, causing us all to meet a violent, tragic end.
I never expected fate to rewind the clock.
To give me a second chance.

I spent three hundred years winning Varen Ashworth's war. Bled for him. Handed him my army, my secrets, the healing blood from my own chest. He'd be nothing without me.
On his coronation day, he announced his queen—and it wasn't me. It was Elara. Some trembling, doe-eyed girl he'd pulled out of a Demon camp. He told me I could stay on as her handmaid.
I laughed, voided the contract, and walked out.
Because I've lived this life before. Last time, I exposed Elara. Saved his throne. He thanked me—then slaughtered my entire bloodline.
This time, I'm not saving anyone.
This time, I'll watch him figure out exactly what kind of woman he picked over me. And when his whole world comes apart—he'll be on his knees, begging the one person who could've stopped it.
I won't be listening.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

At my boyfriend's exhibition party, I went into anaphylactic shock after eating the cake Mia handed me.
I stumbled, reaching for my EpiPen, only for Mia to snatch it out of my hand and crush it under her heel.
"Give... it back..." I choked out, grabbing onto my boyfriend's arm.
He just shook me off, disgusted. "Chloe, can you stop being so dramatic? It's not that big a deal."
"Yeah, Mia's basically family," one of his friends chimed in. "You're being way too jealous and controlling."
Nobody was listening to me anymore.
With the last of my strength, I pressed down on the hidden button on the side of my watch — the one I'd never had to use before.

At last season's Grand Olfactory Gala, Vivienne Harrow presented my formula before I could reach the stage.
I confronted her. She asked where my proof was.
I had nothing. The formula had never left my head — no notes, no records, nothing. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.
I died not knowing.
Then I opened my eyes, and she was already reaching for me.
"Not this time."
I stepped back.

In my last life, I was the one who stopped it.
The second I recognized what was in that cup—a cold medicine loaded with compounds that end any pilot's career on contact with a drug screening—I knocked it out of Ivy's hands. Reid shoved me so hard I hit the coffee table. He got his four stripes anyway. Then he publicly destroyed my reputation, stood by while his fans harassed me off the internet, and smiled when I was pushed down a flight of stairs.
I died knowing he never looked back.
This time, I come back as myself: senior aviation medical officer, five years into a relationship with a man I now see clearly. When Ivy holds out that same cup with that same bright smile, I already know exactly what's in it.
I take a step back.
"Drink it while it's hot," I tell him. "Don't leave a drop."
I spent one lifetime being everyone's safety net. Not this time.

I'm just a stay-at-home mom. Old T-shirt, secondhand car, nobody ever looks at me twice.
At the school fundraiser, my husband's mistress put a peanut in my seven-year-old's mouth. He's severely allergic. As he choked on the grass, she crushed my hand under her heel and kicked his EpiPen straight into the lake.
"One worthless little life," she said. "So what if it's gone."
She's wearing my clothes. My jewelry. Spending my money. She calls me trash in front of the whole school and threatens to have my legs broken.
She thinks she's untouchable, because she's the wife of a Wall Street golden boy.
What she doesn't know is that every dollar he has, every thread she's wearing, even the air she's breathing — all of it belongs to me.
I walked away from that world to raise my son in peace.
She just gave me a reason to come back.

Three years ago, my fiance Marco Ferrante walked out on our engagement for his mistress Vivienne Salas — and now they're both back, kicking in my door and screaming that my baby isn't his.
He's right. It's not his.
It belongs to the most dangerous man in Verrano.
And Marco just put his boot through the Devil's only heir.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

I took the blame for my wife and went to jail, thinking I was protecting our family.

Five years later, when I was released from prison, my mansion was confiscated, my company fell into the hands of my younger brother, and the woman I loved with all my heart was nestled in my brother's arms, mocking my misfortune.

They had been having an affair for a long time, and even my imprisonment was a conspiracy meticulously planned by this despicable couple! What makes me even more furious is that my precious daughter was abandoned on the street like a stray dog, and subjected to beatings and bullying by their illegitimate son .

They thought that by draining my blood, they could forever condemn me to oblivion.

But they forgot that I was once an unparalleled genius in the business world.

“Your fate hasn’t changed,” he says, stepping closer. “What you saw will come to pass—unless you break the curse.”

“How?” My voice trembles. “Please, tell me. Anything to stop that horror.”

His gaze darkens. “Your death… by the hands of your mate.”

My world stops. And when I turn to Bion, his face is pale—like he already knows.

~

On her eighteenth birthday, Melanie Spane’s life shatters. Meeting her destined mate, Bion Anaxagoras—the most powerful and untouchable boy in school—should have been a dream. Instead, it becomes the beginning of her curse.

Memories of another life begin to surface. A hidden truth starts to crack: Melanie is no ordinary girl—she’s the lost princess of the supernatural world.

The same princess cursed by an ancient witch.
The same princess destined to destroy everything and everyone.

And the only way to stop her—is for her mate to kill her.

But Bion is no hero. He’s darkness wrapped in one—loyal only to her.

He would burn the world to see her breathe.

A fated love.

A deadly curse.

A choice between love and the end of the world.

Wyatt’s eyes met mine, and I swear I saw them flash gold for a brief moment. The sunshine was coming through the window harshly though, so it was probably just a trick of the light.


Wyatt smiled and for a moment, it was like my heart leapt right out of my chest. He looked like a movie star standing there with the early morning sun behind him. His brown hair was styled a bit more than usual, with more prominent curls throughout and it was up and away from his face. His beard, which was usually more like a thick stubble across his cheeks and chin, had grown out a bit more, and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed that this morning.

That was when I realized I never really let myself look at him for more than a few moments. If I had, I would have noticed the full sleeve of tattoos he had on his left arm– especially when he was shirtless this morning. Or I would have noticed that yes, he was sexy. Yes he was gorgeous. But he was also quite handsome and seemed to have a sweet air about him…


Wrenlee "Lucky" Jones wanted to keep a low profile. Hell, her life depended on it. But when she turned 18 and discovered that a long-time crush of hers was actually her fated werewolf mate, things get complicated fast. Within weeks, she finds herself the victim of an ancient curse and has to battle against both magickal entities and her stubborn, authoritative mate, who happened to be the Alpha King of the Appalachian Dominion. Suddenly caught between fate, fear, and love, Wrenlee must navigate the curse surrounding her and make decisions that will not only cost her... but will cost her mate.

I never knew my blood could kill a king—until I met one. Sebastian, the ruthless and immortal King, rules with precision. For centuries, he's ruled with ruthless precision, his heart as cold as the stone throne beneath him. One moment, I'm nothing. The next, I'm his obsession. His touch burns like ice fire. His stare follows me through shadows. And when he feeds from me—God help me—it feels like drowning in darkness and craving more. He tells me my blood is unlike any he's tasted, that my scent drives him to the edge of madness.


He reached for the back of my head and pulled me up just enough to reach my neck. When his fangs slid into me, the pain was instant, electric. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My hands found his shoulders, clawing for something to hold. My legs kicked. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

He moaned against my throat as he drank, and the sound was devastating.

My world began to crumble the day my adopted sister, Opal, forced her way back into my life with a fatherless daughter in her arms.
My eldest son, Finn, was strapped to an operating table and used for live experiments until he was tortured to death. His remains were tossed into Death Valley.
For her, my husband struck me, costing me my second unborn child.
For her, my own brother locked me in a freezing dungeon. And my late father? He had been a slave to her charms long before he died.
While they threw a lavish birthday party for Opal’s daughter in the brightly lit banquet hall, I was pinned down by dungeon guards, my clothes being ripped off, inch by inch...

“I’ve lived with that guilt every single day.”

Lila swallowed hard. Her world felt disoriented with memories of her sister, the lingering grief, the recent attacks all blended into a suffocating haze.

Beckett continued, quieter now. “I am twenty-six years old. Young and naive as a professor. And this campus...” He gave a hollow laugh. “It’s full of people who would love to get rid of me. Students who resent strict grading. Colleagues who think I got my position too early. Some who believe I’m arrogant. Some who simply don’t like me.”

His eyes sharpened, steady but tired. “So yes. Anyone could be the killer. And anyone could be trying to frame me. Or frame Damian. Or frame anyone close to this case.”

Lila’s heartbeat grew loud in her ears.

Her mind raced.

Damian said Beckett wasn’t the killer. Mara said Beckett was suspicious.
Mercer said Beckett was dangerous.

At Halden University, the murders follow a deadly rhythm, one red-haired girl every month, each found with a single rose placed in her hand, each killing more vicious than the last.

Lila Rowan arrives a year after her sister’s death, determined to uncover what the police can’t: the identity of the Rose Killer. But the deeper she digs, the more her world begins to tilt. Her sister’s voice slips into her dreams, repeating a warning Lila can’t ignore:

He’s charming. He’s handsome. And he never lets go.

Now every man around her feels like a threat.
The professor whose gaze lingers a heartbeat too long.
The best friend who is trying to protect her.
The other male students who claim to know her sister.

The roses keep appearing.
The bodies keep escalating. And someone is watching Lila, waiting for their moment to strike.

Warning! Mature Contents!

Excerpt

"You belong to me, Sheila. I alone am capable of making you feel this way. Your moans and body belong to me. Your soul and your body are all mine!"


Alpha Killian Reid, the most dreaded Alpha in all of the North, wealthy, powerful and widely feared in the supernatural world, was the envy of all other packs. He was thought to have it all... power, fame, wealth and favor from the moon goddess, little was it known to his rivals that he has been under a curse, which has been kept a secret for so many years, and only the one with the gift of the moon goddess can lift the curse.

Sheila, the daughter of Alpha Lucius who was an arch enemy to Killian, had grown up with so much hatred, detest and maltreatment from her father. She was the fated mate of Alpha Killian.

He refused to reject her, yet he loathed her and treated her poorly, because he was in love with another woman, Thea. But one of these two women was the cure to his curse, while the other was an enemy within. How would he find out? Let's find out in this heart-racing piece, filled with suspense, steamy romance and betrayal.

"If you don't lift that shirt in three seconds, Thorne, I'll rip it off you myself."

The deep, gravelly voice sent a shock of pure terror straight to my core.

Atlas Vanderbilt. The Alpha King of Northbridge Academy. He looked like a dark, jagged cliffside, and for three years, he had made my life a living hell. Everyone thought I was Jace Thorne, the pathetic, weak boy on the hockey team. Nobody knew I was wearing a tight compression binder to hide my breasts.

Now, we were locked in our dorm room. And he was in his rut.

His skin was flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat dripped down his sprawling tattoos. The room was suffocating with the heavy, intoxicating scent of burnt cedar and dark spices. He was trembling violently, his wolf fighting to take over.

"You smell... weird," he growled, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in, sniffing the air near my neck.

My blood ran cold.

"You smell like an Omega in heat," he whispered. "Sweet. Like vanilla and panic. Why the hell do you smell like a girl, Thorne?"

Before I could run, his massive hands grabbed my waist. He pulled me down hard, pinning both of my wrists above my head with just one of his hands. His scorching hot body hovered directly over me. I was completely trapped.

He buried his face deep into the crook of my neck, inhaling sharply. His icy blue eyes turned completely black with raw desire.

"You don't act like a boy," Atlas whispered, his rough thumb tracing my bottom lip as his massive chest pressed against my hidden curves. "And you definitely don't feel like one."

What if waking up as a Greek princess meant becoming a sacrifice to the most brutal god?

Jill Adelaide, an Oscar-nominated actress, never believed in fate—until she woke up in the body of Portia, the most beautiful princess of Sparta.

Her new life comes with a death sentence: she is betrothed to Ares, the God of War. To the world, he is a bloodthirsty monster. To her, he is infuriatingly handsome, possessive, and impossibly tempting.

But Ares is hiding secrets behind his piercing gaze. A mysterious prophecy binds them, and a hidden rebellion threatens to tear Olympus apart. As Jill navigates a world of demigods, monsters, and divine treachery, she must decide if she's merely a pawn in the gods' games—or the one woman who can tame the heart of the God of War.

He craves her soul. She needs his trust. But in a world where gods never fall in love, falling for Ares might be the deadliest risk of all...

“Don’t scream,” he told me, his voice calm against my ear as his fangs slid into my throat.
“You belong to me now.”


I was supposed to die in that burning barn.

Instead, I became his.

Rahlan slaughtered everyone I ran with—effortlessly, almost bored—then dragged me from the shadows like I was nothing more than something he’d misplaced and decided to keep.

I should hate him.
He killed my friends.
He bound my hands, stripped me of every weapon, every ounce of pride, every illusion of control.

He drinks from me when he wants.
Starves me when it pleases him.
Drags me behind his horse like I’m just another piece of gear.

And yet—

When another vampire tried to take me, Rahlan tore him apart.

When the cold should have killed me, he wrapped me in his cloak and pulled me into his bedroll, his body heat the only thing keeping me alive.

He calls me slave.
But no one else is allowed to touch what’s his.

I’m still human.
Still trying to survive.
Still trying to get back to my brother in the south.

But every mile he drags me north…
Every night his mouth finds my throat…
Every time he looks at me like I’m something he owns—

I feel myself breaking.

Because the monster who destroyed my world
is becoming the only thing keeping me alive.

…and the most dangerous part?

I’m starting to want him to keep me.

Off to the human world, I could pretend to be just an ordinary girl with ordinary hormonal girl problems.


As everyone knew, I would be the one to replace my father as the future Luna and leader of the underground workings of the city. I had a front-row seat to the back-alley politics of the city.

The reality is for a wolf at seventeen, your world is never the same. It can be a lot of pressure. Even more so when you are the daughter of the alpha and are the future Luna of the pack.


Off to the human world where I could forget about all the mating stuff and pretend to be just an ordinary girl with ordinary hormonal girl problems.


Jackson Douglas was the town's bad boy, right down to his slick black hair, leather jacket, and boots. Pulling right up on the sidewalk was a primer black muscle car. Clearly, it had a lot of time, but into the motor and parts under the hood. V8 from the sound of the engine even in Idol.


"Thanks, but I think I’ll just call an Uber.” I turned to walk away but he caught my arm. “First off I have your phone, secondly you really do want to get in the car with me so I can get you home safely.” All of a sudden, looking in his eyes I wanted to do exactly that. All the irritation and creeps I was getting off our city’s bad boy were gone. I felt relaxed. Whatever was happening it didn’t seem to have complete control over my mouth though. “Fine, anywhere but home though and I will find something to stab you with.” With a huge smile now plastered on his face he simply said “Deal.” and we walked to his car. I opened the door so I could slide in. Oddly gentleman-like for the bad boy I thought, and it made me giggle. This was not good at all.


Darkness fell around us. The danger creeped in like a fog making it almost impossible to see a way out. This was it I thought, the end. The end of everything I know, everything I want. At that thought anger like I had never felt before burned within me like the fires of hell willing me to unleash them. To allow them to burn this world to the ground and everyone who dares to harm those that I loved. I no longer wanted to hold the fire back. I wanted to let it loose. Allow it to consume me. Looking around at those who were my friends and family, those who were here to fight with me who barely knew me, just believed in what we were here to fight for. I let go. I released the flames of rage. I felt the burn as they took over my thoughts and body doing what had to be done...

Warning🔞🔞🔞: This story contains a lot of explicit violence, foul language, and gore scenes, which are strictly not for readers under 18.
“Six months! Within six months, I will make you want me so much that you will not be able to breathe without me,” he said as he kissed her earlobe while he straddled her on his lap.
“You are wrong; in six months I will have people dropping flowers in your coffin as they bid you farewell after I have driven a bullet into your head.” Scarlett rasped as she stifled a moan trying to escape her mouth.
“Then it's a bet, but I know fate will work in my favor.”
“No, fate will work in mine,” Scarlett blurted as she tried to pick up the gun by his side, but he yanked it off her hand as he locked his lips with hers.


Scarlett Kendrick lost her family at the hands of Logan Russo, a deadly mafia lord, and she swore on her parents' lives that she would avenge them if that was the only thing she could do, but her uncle ran into trouble, and she was used as a collateral bride to a gang boss.
But on her wedding day, as she made to escape the wedding, she was kidnapped by her sworn enemy, with no escape route, but had to agree to a game with him. A game that needed six months.
He only asked for six months; he wanted her to be by his side for six months, and if she didn't fall in love with him, he would let her go, but Scarlett challenged him instead. She would get him killed in six months and not fall in love.
Would any one of them have their wish granted in six months?

Elena, a strong-willed She-wolf is forcefully sold by her father to the cruel Alpha Damien; they tell her that once she bears the Alpha an heir she would be set free.

What she doesn’t know is the cruel Alpha is her mate yet he remains oblivious to their mate bond, he torments her everyday and when Elena discovers she is pregnant she runs away from the abusive grasp of Alpha Damien.

Alpha Damien swore to find her and bring her back but what he doesn't know is Elena is now a well sought out healer.

Will Alpha Damien be able to get back his healer mate? Or will she end up in the hands of a second Alpha?

Find out in the gripping twist ahead!!

My name is Jonah Flint, and I sell fish at the Havana docks.
Five years have passed, and everyone still treats me like a dead dog that can still breathe.
Until I saw the wanted poster on the execution ground—red hair, green eyes, and a scar on his face.
My captain is going to be hanged.
I put down the fish knife and dug the trident out of the cellar.
Listen up, Caribbean Sea—the old monster that has been silent for five years is here to collect its debts.

“I, Alpha Kai Blackwood, reject you, Elias Thorne, as my mate.”

The words tore through the silent crowd like a blade. I stood there, the unwanted, wolf-less omega, watching the man I loved choose a perfect, blonde she-wolf over me. Just the night before, he had pinned me against the wall, his voice rough with desire, whispering that he would keep me. He lied.

Humiliation burned my skin as I ran into the snowy woods, vowing never to return. I thought the pain of the broken bond would kill me. But a month later, living among humans, a healer’s words shattered my world: “You are pregnant, Elias.”

Impossible. Male omegas don’t carry pups. Unless... unless the legends of the White Wolf were true.

I returned to Silverfang not for him, but for answers. But the moment I stepped through the door, my scent hit him. Kai stormed into the room, his amber eyes blazing with a mix of fury and something darker. He cornered me, his hand hovering over my flat stomach.

“Why did you come back?” he growled, trapping me.
I looked him dead in the eye. “Because I’m pregnant, Kai. And it’s yours.”

The room went dead silent. His father, the Alpha, stepped forward with a sneer. “Lies! A male cannot—”
“Touch him,” Kai snarled, his voice vibrating with lethal Alpha power, “and I will rip your throat out.”

Rashel, an overly supportive wife and Luna to Alpha Seth, who helped her husband build his pack to become the envy of all, thought her life was finally about to take the best turn she had always hoped for. But nothing prepared her for the fall from grace to grass fate had for her.

It is tradition that any Alpha without an heir at age 35 would lose his pack to the next best contender. And in this case, Alpha Seth's younger brother, who was an arch enemy, was the next best available contender, and he was willing to do just anything to make sure his brother, Seth, lost the pack to him.

Disgraced and forced out of her pack after her husband found out he had a second fated mate, Rashel left with the one thing Seth needed to retain his pack – Her pregnancy.

She was given a second fated mate, who turned out to be the Alpha King, Jethro. The one man who held the entire werewolf nation in his palm.

Rashel thought that life had given her and her baby a second chance, since Alpha Jethro loved her to the moon and back. But what she didn't know was that her misery had only just begun, because not only did Seth regret letting her go, but now he desperately needed her and his child—the heir to his pack—back in his life. But this would be over Alpha Jethro's dead body.

Rashel is caught in the middle of an impending war between the man she once loved and the man with whom she gradually built a new life.

Now, she has to find out where her heart truly lies and whom she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

He’s the last of his kind. The king in a world where no one bows. The predator in a city full of prey. And he says I belong to him.

I thought I could ruin him.
I thought knowing his secret, that the city’s beloved billionaire is actually the ruthless mafia king in the shadows meant I had power over him.

But I was wrong.

Because Leander Vekaris doesn’t just want to silence me.
He wants to break me.
Strip me.
Claim me.

He says my bloodline is the only one that can save his dying race. That I was born to bear his heir, to carry his mark.
That he’s waited too long to let a weak little human like me say no.

And every time he touches me—every cruel word, every brutal kiss, every whispered promise to ruin me if I run—
…I started to believe him.

Because under his cruelty, there’s something else in his eyes.
Something dark and dangerous… but desperate too.
Like maybe he hates needing me as much as I hate needing him.
And maybe…
I’ll let him destroy me anyway.

Even if loving a monster like him might cost me everything.